So...what was I saying?

What the fuck was I talking about? 'You said...True Blue...was about a guy, but Like A Virgin was a metaphor for big dicks'...oh, yeah this is what I was tallking about. Its all about this cooze who's a regular fuck machine, I'm talking morning, day, night, afternoon, dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick. 'How many dicks is that?' 'A lot.' So she meets this Jon Holmes muthafucka, and its like 'Woah, baby.' He's like Charles Bronson in 'The Great Escape'...he's diggin' tunnels. She's gettin' some serious dick action here, and she feels somethin' that she hasn't felt in foreva'. PAIN. Pain. It hurts. It hurts her. It shouldn't hurt her, because she should be broken in by now. But when this cat fucks her, it hurts her. It hurts her just like it did the first time. Y'see the pain is reminding a fuck machine what it was once like to be a virgin. Hence...like a virgin.

Sorry. Anyway. So...

Yeah, maybe its not the best idea...but I just gotta' get back in the mix.

And I'm gambling, that, y'know, not only can I pull it off, but it will help me get better sooner...y'know, more quickly.

What?

Death?

Oh...my whole death thing?

Well, like I said, I'm not going to the hospital.

Yeah.

Oh.

Well, it was the pain, mostly. It started in early December, and in about two weeks, got to a point that was unreal.

It broke me.

What? Broke me. Like when you see a movie, right? And they capture a dude, torture the fuck out of him and he gives up all the secrets?

Yeah.

That was me. Broken. If there were any secrets, I would have spilled my fuckin' guts. The plans would have been lost, our double agents revealed, and I would have signed any goddam confession put in front of my face. Total turncoat material. Just make the pain stop.

But, its like, it didn't stop. Didn't matter what secrets I had.

Just pain for stupid pain's sake. All day, everyday, at that excruciating level.

So...take that one moment where the secret agent spills his guts, and stretch that over a month continuously and you start looking for an escape. ANY escape. Fuckin' whatever, yo.

Get me OUT.

Yeah, yeah...sorry I let you down, friends...you don't understand. Bye family, love you, but, damn, y'know? I'm outtie. I don't care if you don't understand, because this is beyond all reason.

That pain kept up through January, and only really let up significantly maybe...I don't know, a week ago or something. Maybe two.

Still, I'm talking about two months of indescribable pain.

Pain...that I couldn't disassociate myself from.

So, yeah, that was a BIG reason for the death-thing. That and what they conceivably want to do to me upon hospitalization.

I'm nobody's circus freak. Mutilate someone else, leech-man. On that score, I likely say goodbye, too.

Plus when you consider the fucking cost of all of that. Shit man, I might as WELL be dead anyway.

So that's the whole death-thing. Mostly, I guess, if not all.

But its, like, irrelevant. I'm doing better, getting better, things will be just fine.

Oh.

Yeah.

Well, thanks for letting me get that off my chest. I needed to tell someone, y'know.

Its a heavy black heart I carry around on some days. I'm glad you understand, and don't get all freaked out, abandon me and stuff.

Yeah, everybody needs a friend like that.

I guess that's why I appreciate you.

Oh, fuck youuuuu. So I'm a sentimental fuck, fuckin' sue me.

Je-sus.